Lingering Sentiments
by The Rogue Lion
Summary: In the days of his youth, Spyro cursed and lamented his status as the purple dragon. It had brought nothing but sadness and grief—not only to himself, but to those whom he loved most. Now, in the twilight of his life, Spyro has accepted his fate and has moved on in order to create a better future for those around him. It was what Cynder would have wanted.


**Lingering Sentiments**

Based off of "Inner Sanctum" by Kuroy

Spyro looked over to the horizon, seeing an endless expanse of tall trees and green grass. He saw mountains in the distance, their tips covered in white. A large lake reflecting the bright, blue sky broke up the land. From atop one of the many floating islands he had inadvertently created, he could see nearly everything. He sighed contently as the sun's warm rays beat down upon his scales and a cool breeze brushed against his face.

"This is nice, isn't it, Spyro?"

The purple dragon turned to face the speaker, a lovely dragoness painted in ebony. He smiled and nodded. "It is."

He closed his eyes and rested against her, inhaling her scent—lavender with a hint of rosemary.

"I just wish that it could have been like this forever."

Spyro's eyes snapped open and he fell onto his side. As he landed onto the ground, a cloud of dust went up in the air. The drake coughed and blew it away with a stroke of his wing. When his vision cleared, the beautiful scenery he had been looking at was no more. In its place was a bleak, deserted wasteland with dark grey clouds that threatened to pour from above. The dragoness that had been by his side had disappeared as well. He spun around in a circle, searching for her, but there was only emptiness.

He was alone.

"Cynder!" he shouted. "Where are you?"

His breaths became shorter as fear, worry, and panic began to settle in. His head pointed in a direction and he took off.

Spyro sprinted as hard and as fast as he could, trying and hoping to find something. He ran for what felt like hours, but he knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Still, he found nothing. No matter how far or how long he seemed to run for, his surroundings didn't change.

Cold began to creep over his scales, but it felt different somehow—different from the cold he had felt on those chilly, winter nights. It was also familiar in a way, like he was reliving a part of his past, but he couldn't recall a time when he had felt something so grim. It was rather difficult to describe. Whatever it was, Spyro didn't like it one bit and wished desperately for it to end.

He stopped in his tracks, quickly losing faith that something would change. "Is anyone there?!" he cried vainly as the feeling of despair slowly settled in. He brought his paws closer to his body and wrapped his wings and tail around himself.

"Anyone?" he whispered.

There was no response.

Spyro shut his eyes and fought back the tears that were forming. Was this how Cynder had felt in Warfang when everyone had been against her? Was this how she had felt when she had been accused of murder and sentenced to death?

The sound of dripping water echoed around him. The purple dragon opened his eyes and studied his surroundings. He was no longer in that bleary desert. He was in a cave, one he knew intimately.

Spyro's jaw fell in shock. How had he gotten back here? How had he ended back up in his prison? How had he—

The soft clinking of metal attracted his attention and caused him to look down. There was a chain leading up from the ground to his neck. He reached up with a paw and felt a collar wrapped tightly around him. It was suffocating. The sound of the water drop replayed and Spyro turned to the source—a small pond in the middle of the cave. He walked towards the body of water, taking cautious steps as if there was something that would leap out towards him. When nothing happened, the drake relaxed a bit—still keeping his guard up in case anything went wrong—and peered into the pool.

Immediately, he reeled back and let out a cry, frightened by what he had seen.

It had been himself.

But at the same time, it wasn't. The reflection wasn't anything like what he had remembered or envisioned himself as. The image had depicted him with dark, sunken eyes and dull, scratched scales. He was thin to the point where the bones in his face stuck out. The thing that had upset him the most, however, was the aura of blackness that surrounded him. It reminded him of someone who wanted to die.

Spyro rose up from the ground shakily, his legs trembling as the image of his reflection was plastered inside his head. He did his best to forget it or at least push it to the far corners of his mind. In an attempt to distract himself from the picture, he tried to search for an answer for what was happening to him. He remembered the door he had spent many hours watching and waiting for his mate or brother or some other person to come visit him. He looked around the cave to find it, but he couldn't. It wasn't there.

There was no escape.

He took a step back, dread filling his being. He heard a soft crunch and felt something underneath one of his paws. He lifted his forepaw and discovered a now dead flower. A faint purple glow radiated from it, but it soon died out, leaving no traces of light. Spyro gasped in horror, realizing what he had just done. There was another glow that shined weakly behind him. He turned to see a second wilting flower. Then a third. And fourth. All around him was a garden of dead flowers, each one releasing a muted light before finally dying out.

Anguish and regret consumed Spyro. They ate at him until he could barely feel anything and then they continued to eat at him. When the purple dragon was nothing more than an empty husk, only then did he weep.

Spyro's eyes creaked open to see the smooth white ceiling of his bedroom. His eyes wandered, taking in the embroidered banners and curtains that hung from the walls. He flexed his claws and then his wings, but found that something was pressed up against them, something soft. He rolled over onto his legs and observed the object he had been resting on—a large cushion sewn with colors of purple and gold.

It had been a nightmare.

He walked up to a mirror that hung from one of the walls and looked at it. He half expected to see the ghoulish reflection from his dream, but he only saw an old drake staring back at him. His scales were a muffled purple and a faded gold. Two thick, long horns protruded from the top of his head and a smaller golden spire grew out from his chin. His eyes looked tired and weary, but behind them was a wealth of knowledge and experience.

A soft breeze blew by him through an open window, greeting him. "I had that nightmare again. The one where I was in that cave. The one where I was surrounded by those flowers. The one where I looked like death itself."

The wind danced around his scales and through the tapestries in his room. Spyro chuckled. "I guess I am still like a little hatchling."

He peeked out a window and took a deep breath. "It is time for a new day."

* * *

The old purple dragon padded through the large halls of the expanded temple. Dozens of dragons and dragonesses of varying sizes and colors passed by him. Some rushed through the corridors, trying to get to their destinations quickly. Others walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying what life had to offer. Most of them were still young and not yet fully grown. All of them had been his students at one point or another. Nowadays, though, he left a majority of the teachings to the Guardians and the other teachers at the temple.

A large earth dragoness, bearing colors of a forest green and a dusty brown, approached him. "Good morning, Master Spyro," she said.

"Good morning to you too, Petra," Spyro said warmly. "And you do not have to address me as 'master' anymore. We are equals now. You are no longer my or Antaro's student. You are the new Earth Guardian."

Petra nodded. "Please forgive me, Mas—" Spyro raised an eyeridge. "Ahem. Spyro," she corrected. "I'm still getting used to this whole thing. I never thought I would ever be the one to take up Antaro's place as the next Earth Guardian. I hope I can live to meet both of your expectations."

The purple drake shook his head and said, "You already have. Even before your induction into the Order, you exceeded all that we could have hoped for time and time again. It is the reason why Antaro chose you as his successor and why you are the youngest Guardian in history."

She smiled gratefully at his words and bowed her head. "Thank you, Master Spyro."

"Now what did I say about titles?"

"Considering that we are now equals, I think I have the freedom to pass on some of your suggestions," she said cheekily.

Spyro laughed. "Fair enough," he said. "Have you seen Anaya yet this morning?"

Petra nodded and answered, "I last saw her going to the Hall of Heroes. I would be willing to bet that she's still there now."

"Thank you," he said. "I will see you later. Have a good day, Petra."

"You as well, Master Spyro."

It took the old dragon maybe twice as long as a young, fit drake would have to get to the Hall. Along the way, he passed by fewer and fewer students as this section of the temple was more out of the way of the main areas. In his opinion, it was one of the most visually stunning parts of the temple. A part of him was sad to see so few people visit. There was the redeeming fact in that Anaya had come this way, however, and that brought a warm feeling to his chest.

Spyro turned the corner and reached a long corridor with a high ceiling. On either side of him were tall statues memorializing legends of old. There was a plaque at the base of each one, naming who each statue was for. He walked down the Hall slowly, taking the time to read through each inscription. The names Cirrus, Incendia, Glacien, and Tonitus prompted images of dragons he had known at some point to flash through his mind. The Hall brought a nostalgic smile to Spyro's face.

He paused next to one of the statues depicting a bulky earth dragon. The dragon wore a set of large, thick horns pointing straight backwards with two smaller horns surrounding them. There were spots on his haunch, different from the rest of his body, which were meant to represent brown scales. Spyro looked ahead. Further along the corridor was a much younger dragon, or a dragoness rather, who was staring up at a previous Fire Guardian. Unlike the other young students that roamed through the temple, this one was a bright purple.

As Spyro neared, he could make out a mesmerized expression on her face. "Hello, Anaya," he greeted.

The young dragoness flinched and whirled around to face him with green energy glowing around her paws. Upon seeing the older purple dragon, she calmed down. "H-hello, Master Spyro," she said, her cheeks tinged red. "I didn't notice you there."

"It is quite alright, Anaya," Spyro said. "An old drake like me doesn't make much noise these days. So what brings you to the Hall of Heroes, young dragoness?"

The air of embarrassment that had surrounded Anaya vanished. "I had a dream last night," she said. "But it didn't feel like any others I've had before."

Spyro rested on his haunches. He had a suspicion of what her dream was about. "Tell me more about this dream of yours. What were you doing and where were you?"

"I was standing on a floating platform and there was nothing else around me as far as I could see. It was quiet. I could hear my own heart beating and it was a little cold, I guess?" She shook her head. "No, not cold, but it was like time wasn't moving. I called out to see if anyone was there and no one responded for a while. Then I heard a voice say something to me. I don't remember what it said, but it made me feel warmer somehow—like I was listening to an old friend again. And then I woke up."

"Can you recall anything else?"

"No, but when I woke up, I felt this _pull_ and I ended up here." Anaya looked up at him. "Master Spyro, who is Ignitus? I know he used to be the Fire Guardian before Igneel because that's what it says here, but there isn't anything else."

Spyro nodded. "Ignitus used to be the Fire Guardian and is the predecessor to Fire Guardian Igneel. He is also my old mentor and good friend," he said fondly.

Anaya's brow furrowed. "Master, you're using the present tense. Is he still alive somewhere?"

"Yes, and no," he answered. "No, in the sense that he is not alive like you or me. But yes, as in he is still out there, watching over us."

"Where is he now?" she asked.

"The White Isle." Speaking the name of Ignitus's home sent a shiver down his spine.

It had the same effect on the small dragoness as she visibly shuddered. "I feel like I've heard that name somewhere. Maybe I've read it in a book."

"I do not think you have," Spyro said, much to Anaya's confusion. "There are texts out there in the world that mention this place, but they are in no way within the grasp of even the highest councilmembers. The Guardians and I are the only ones privy to this knowledge, and it seems you are now as well."

"But if I didn't read about it somewhere, where did I hear it from?"

"Your dream, Anaya. The voice that spoke to you in your dream was the Chronicler, the one who presides over the Books of Time and records the history of every dragon in this world." The older purple looked away in thought then faced the dragoness again. "I believe this is a sign for you to take the next step in your training."

"Okay," she said. "What's the next step?"

Spyro motioned to the exit of the Hall. "It is called Dragon Time. I will explain more when we begin. Now come along, young dragoness."

Anaya nodded and padded over to Spyro's side. As they walked out, she asked, "So Ignitus is the Chronicler then?"

"Yes."

"What was, or rather, is he to you? You said that he was your old mentor and friend, but there's something else, isn't there? The way you mentioned him sounded like something more."

The purple drake smiled. "You have a keen eye, and yes, he is more than just a mentor and friend to me. I have also seen him as a father figure."

"So kinda like you are to me."

Happiness filled his heart. "I am glad you feel that way, Anaya. You are very much the daughter I never had."

A gentle stream of air blew by the two dragons as they passed a statue of a dragoness lone gone and left for the training room.

* * *

"I'm not too sure about this, Master."

"Trust in my guidance and believe in yourself, Anaya. I know you can do this. You are ready." The dragoness didn't look any surer of herself, but she nodded nonetheless. "Now begin."

Anaya closed her eyes and rose up onto her hindpaws, spreading her wings. A faded blue aura radiated from her body.

"That is it, young dragoness. Look deep within yourself. Search for your inner power. Feel the passage of time." The aura around the dragoness grew stronger. "Then use your power to hold it. Do not let it slip away."

The purple dragoness's wings stretched further and the energy emanating from her grew increasingly stronger. Then it vanished. Anaya's eyes snapped open and she fell onto her back, letting out a yelp in the process. Spyro craned his head down. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and got up. "Yes, Master," she said, disappointment evident on her face.

"Do not look so glum, Anaya. Anymore of that frowning and you will start to get wrinkles like me," he joked. This caused the corners of her lips to tug upwards. "You almost had it. You just need a little more practice. Now try again."

The purple dragoness repeated her actions and the same blue aura from before reappeared. This time, Spyro did not say a word and let her attempt it on her own. A deep look of concentration was etched onto Anaya's face and the energy around her grew brighter. Her eyes snapped open once more, but this time there was a well of power behind them. The blue energy that had covered her flew off in every direction and Spyro felt time slow to a crawl. Anaya looked around in awe. The world was now a shade of blue. After several moments, time resumed its normal pace and color was restored to their surroundings.

"Congratulations, Anaya. You are now a user of Dragon Time."

She jumped in the air and cheered. "Yes!" she shouted. "I did it!"

Spyro chuckled at her antics, but his smile was wiped off his face as the dragoness ran up to him and wrapped her legs around one of his limbs. There was a moment of shock for the older dragon, but he grew past it and returned the hug.

She released him from her grasp. "Thank you, Master Spyro."

He shook his head. "No, you have nothing to thank me for. You did all the work. I only played a small part in your success."

"But you still helped, so you deserve to be thanked."

"Very well then. I will not argue with you. You are welcome," he said. "You are a very talented, young dragoness, you know."

Anaya blushed at the praise. "I'm not that special. You're just a great teacher."

"Now while I may not disagree with that second part," he joked, eliciting laughter from her, "you are incredibly special. You are already far stronger than I ever was when I was your age."

She looked up at him with inquiring eyes. "Master? What were you like when you were my age?"

"I suppose we can take a little break from training," he said. Spyro lowered himself to the ground and rested on his golden belly. His eyes glazed over as he looked off in the distance, recalling his past. "I was actually a bit of a troublemaker when I was young. I went on all sorts of adventures with my brother, Sparx. We ended up in many different situations—some good, others bad. No matter what kinds of trouble we got into, though, we still had lots of fun."

"You were raised by dragonflies, right? What was that like?"

Spyro stroked the horn protruding from his chin. "Mmm. It was certainly quite a bit different from dragon society. Things tended to be on the weirder side when I outgrew my parents' home. Overall, I don't believe my relationship with my family was unlike what the relationship between a family of dragons would be. Even if I wasn't a dragonfly like them, they still loved me just as much and I loved them. I would not trade that away for anything."

"You must really miss them," Anaya said heartbroken.

"Everyday."

The dragoness was quiet for a minute, contemplating her own thoughts and feelings. Spyro, meanwhile, waited patiently for the question that would inevitably come next. "Is there anyone else that you miss?"

Dozens of faces flashed through his mind. "There are many friends I have seen come and go over the years and I miss them all dearly."

"You've lived for a long time, haven't you, Master?"

"I have," he affirmed.

Anaya's shoulders fell and she began to trace the ground with her claw. "Master?" she said quietly.

"Yes, Anaya?"

"Will I live as long as you?"

"It is likely. Longevity is one of the traits of the purple dragon."

Her eyes began to water and she looked up at him. "What about all my friends? Am I going to outlive them too? I don't want to see them go."

Spyro smiled sadly. "Yes, it was difficult to see all my loved ones go, but they weren't the only people I cared about. I also made new friends, friends that I would cherish for years to come, friends I still cherish now. This includes a lively young purple dragoness who I know is very strong-willed." He tucked a claw underneath her chin. "Everyone dies eventually, but you will never be alone. All the friends you have made and will make will always be with you. They will never leave you."

Anaya sniffled. "Even you?"

"Even me."

* * *

Spyro read through the scroll in front of him with a pair of spectacles resting on the bridge of his muzzle. The city was passing a new legislature requiring all master craftsmen to take on an apprentice. The argument was that with skilled artisans, the city would surely benefit from the increased number of high quality goods. But then there were worries about with so many skilled workers, it would be difficult to make a living as everyone would be capable of making their own things.

The purple drake picked up a quill and dipped it into the inkwell beside it. He began writing onto a separate piece of parchment with his response. The only sounds in the room were his quill scratching against paper and his slow, but steady breathing. As he wrote, the feeling of discomfort rose within his chest. He did his best to ignore it and to focus on his work, but it became increasingly more distracting. Spyro set down his quill and let out a haggard cough. It left the purple dragon with shallow, raspy breaths and caused his chest to ache.

He really was old, wasn't he?

He rubbed his eyes wearily and glanced at the scroll sitting on his desk, sighing. Perhaps the matter would be better left for another time. Deciding to take a break, Spyro rose up from the ground and exited the room.

The halls of the temple were empty as no one, student or staff, desired to be out and about at midnight. It was a reoccurring habit of his to be wandering around after dark when there was something bothering him. In the past, he found that the quiet helped him think and this had led to him solving many of his problems. This time, though, he didn't have any. Or at the very least, he wasn't aware of any he had. Sure there was the city's new legislature, but that was a fairly minor problem that would be taken care of at a later date. He only had one student now and Anaya's training was going rather smoothly, so there was no trouble there.

So what was it?

Eventually, Spyro ended up in a corridor that opened up into a small balcony garden overlooking a dark green forest. It was located in one of the more secluded areas of the temple and, as such, there were rarely any visitors. The garden had become his personal spot over the years and he had spent many hours sitting on its grassy floor just being. This time, however, there was a small purple dragoness standing next to the stone railing, looking up at the stars.

"While stargazing is a fine hobby," Spyro said, announcing his presence, "I do not think staying up so late to do it is such a good idea, especially when you have a training session with Petra in the morning."

Anaya stiffened, once again caught off guard by her master, and turned around. "Master!" she said in surprise. "I didn't hear you coming."

"That is not too surprising, considering how lost in thought you looked. Now care to tell an old drake what is keeping you out of bed?"

"I couldn't sleep," she answered.

Spyro stepped onto the grass and sat down next to her. "I guessed as much. Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?"

She glanced at him then back at the stars. "Will I be a good purple dragon?"

"That is really up to you. Although, if you really wanted my opinion, I think you will do just fine," he replied, winking.

"How do you know?"

"Anaya," Spyro began in a fatherly tone, "you are a strong, intelligent dragoness who is highly gifted. You are kind and caring, always stopping to check if you are doing to right thing and stopping to help whoever is in need. You already show maturity that many of your peers lack. And most of all, you have people who care about you, people who will do whatever they can to help you in times of need. Your path as the next purple dragon will not be one without struggle, but I believe you will succeed and bring another era of peace to the world."

"But what if something goes wrong? What if I screw up? What if I disappoint everyone?" She looked up at him with wide eyes. "What if I disappoint you?"

He frowned. "The only way you will ever disappoint me is if you ever stop believing in yourself. And right now, I am disappointed." He put a wing around her, bringing her close. "You must never let those fears get to you. They will do more harm to you than a weapon ever could and they will stop you from doing whatever it is that you need to do. Stay resolute and you will not fail. You can do it. I trust you."

Anaya pressed herself against his scales and an unexpectedly warm wind washed over them. "Thank you, Master Spyro," she whispered.

When she broke away from him, the older dragon stood up and groaned. He stretched out his limbs, causing each of them to produce a soft pop. "So how about we head on back to bed? We both have busy schedules in the morning and it would be best for us to be awake for them."

The purple dragoness nodded and got up. Then together they walked back through the halls of the temple. Neither of them said a word, not just because they didn't want to disturb anyone who was sleeping, but also because they both were thinking back to what the larger purple had said on the balcony. For Anaya, she took those words to heart and began to carve them into her mind. For Spyro, he reflected on his own experiences and how they had led up to him giving that advice.

As the pair turned a corner, Spyro felt his chest tighten. He fought back the urge to cough, but was unsuccessful. He let out a cough much more intense than the one he had earlier. The sound echoed around them and caused Anaya to look up at him worriedly. He put on his best smile.

"Do not worry about me. Just getting a little old," he said in a rough voice.

"Are you sure, Master?" she asked with concern. "I can go get one of the healers."

He shook his head. "That will not be necessary. I will be fine. It is just a small—"

Spyro began hacking again. He fell against a nearby wall and propped a paw against it to support himself. A burning pain flared within his chest. He clutched at it with the paw that had been holding him up and he dropped to the ground. He saw a set of purple paws running up to him, but they were blurry. His vision became hazy. He tried looking up at Anaya with half-lidded eyes. He could barely make out her face.

"Master!" he heard her cry out in a muffled voice. She sounded panicked. "I'm going to get a healer! I'll be right back!"

The last thing Spyro saw was a small purple blur running down the end of the hall. A warm breeze blanketed over him and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Spyro stood in the middle of a wide, empty field of grass. He looked around curiously, wondering how he had gotten there, but he had no clue. There were no visible landmarks like mountains nor were there any trees. There was just an endless stretch of grass. It felt soft and cool underneath his paws and it gave him a sense of comfort for a reason he couldn't discern. Still though, he was hesitant to sink into that feeling due to not knowing where he was. He looked around again, searching for anything familiar. The grass began to stir as a gentle wind flew by.

It smelled like lavender and rosemary.

He stood up at attention, immediately recognizing the scent. His head careened from left to right then left again until he saw a black figure in the distance. His heart skipped a beat and Spyro dashed towards it. As he neared, he could see that the figure was a dragoness and that she had her back facing him. A few steps more allowed him to make out a set of ivory horns on her head. With a strong beat of his wings, he closed the gap even further and spied a polished metal tail blade resting in the grass. He landed several feet before the dragoness and she slowly turned around, revealing the smiling visage of his long passed mate.

"Cynder?" he said breathlessly. "Is that really you?"

She nodded wordlessly.

Spyro rushed forward and wrapped his forepaws around her. He rubbed his cheek against hers with all the love he had when he was younger and all the love he still had now. After several moments of holding her like that, he finally pulled away. "You're still as young and as beautiful as I remember," he said.

Cynder reached up with a paw and caressed his face.

"And I'm still just an old drake."

He grasped her paw with his own. "I've missed this so much. I miss your touch, your voice, all the times we shared together. Like on top of that floating island just watching over everything." He sighed and his shoulders fell. "I know I've said this before, but I've thought about ending it all to be with you again. There were times where I just couldn't stand living without you."

She looked at him forlorn.

"But I continued living. For your sake. For everyone else's sake. They all needed me. The people of this world needed me to save them, to bring them peace. They all needed me far more than I need you."

He pressed his forehead against hers and locked eyes with her.

"And someone still does, if only for a little while longer. I'm sorry, Cynder, but I'm not ready to go. Not yet." He kissed her softly. "I'll be with you soon."

Spyro's eyes creaked open to see the smooth white ceiling of the infirmary. His eyes wandered, noticing a small pile of life crystals nearby. He tried to flex his claws, but they hardly responded. He then tried with his wings, but found that something was pressed against them. He attempted to roll over onto his legs, but he couldn't muster the strength to do so. He craned his head and looked underneath him. He was lying on a large mat of a simple blue.

"Master Spyro! You're awake!"

In the doorway of the room stood Anaya with a relieved smile on her face. Tears of joy began to run down the sides of her cheeks and she embraced him in a tight hug. He felt a sharp stab of pain in his side. He released a soft groan and the purple dragoness immediately let go of him.

"I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? Do you need the healer?"

"No," he rasped. Spyro took in a deep breath and let it out shakily. His chest protested against the action by giving him small twinges of pain. He felt weak, weaker than he had ever felt in his life—even weaker than when he had pulled the world back together. He gestured for her to come closer with small movements of his claw. "I amm dying, Anaya."

"Let me get the healer!" Anaya turned to leave, but Spyro stopped her.

"It is no use," he said. "No amount of healing can save me now."

"No!" she shouted desperately. "You're the purple dragon! You have more power than anyone could possibly imagine! You can't die!"

"It is true that there are many things a purple dragon can do," Spyro wheezed, "but cheating death is not one of them."

The young dragoness collapsed at his side, sobbing. "But you can't go!"

"There is nothing I or anyone else can do about that. But there is one last lesson I need to teach you, a lesson Ignitus taught me." She looked at him expectantly, her tears temporarily stopped. He sucked in a strangled breath. "Anaya, when a dragon dies, he does not truly leave this world. His spirit lives on, binding itself with nature, offering hope for the future.

"Did I get that right, Cynder?"

Despite the door being closed and the windows unopened, a wind rushed through the room and swept by both Anaya and Spyro. It bore the scent of lavender and rosemary.

" _You got it word for word,"_ a feminine voice rang out.

The purple dragoness jumped. "Master, did you hear that? What was that?"

"One of the abilities of the purple dragon," he explained, "is to detect the energies within the world. Concentrate and feel what is around you."

The purple dragoness wore a confused expression. "But what about—" Spyro cut her off with a pointed look. Nodding hesitantly, she closed her eyes and focused, searching inside of herself for the connection her master had just described. After several moments, she found that there was something lingering in the air.

" _Hello, Anaya,"_ the voice said again.

"Wh-who are you?" she asked.

" _I used to be a dragoness just like you a long time ago. Then when I passed, I became one with the wind."_

Anaya blinked and recalled the name her master had just mentioned. "A-are you Cynder?"

" _Yes."_

"She was my mate and is still the love of my life," Spyro said hoarsely.

"That's so sweet," the dragoness murmured.

" _He always was quite the charmer when we were young."_

"I still am!" he said with a strength that surprised Anaya. It brought a smile to her face, but it was short-lived.

" _Spyro, it is time."_

Anaya's eyes widened and faced her mentor. "Wait! No! Not yet! What about all the things you still need to teach me?!"

"You are capable of learning those on your own. You do not need me anymore."

"But I do! I'm not ready to be on my own!" she cried.

"You will never be alone, Anaya. I will always be watching over you," Spyro whispered. His body began to shine with a purple glow. "Never forget what I told you. I love you."

The purple dragoness's lips parted to object, but no words came out. She now knew there was nothing she could say or do to stop what was happening. Instead, Anaya managed a smile and watched as the aura around the dying dragon became brighter and brighter. Spyro's paws grew slack and the energy from his body rose into the air. He let out one last breath before his head fell back and the light he radiated disappeared.

Anaya felt a strong swirl of power flow through the air. There were now two distinct energies. Finally, a stream of wind surrounded the dragoness and she shed one last tear.

"I love you too, Master. Thank you, for everything."

* * *

 **For those of you who may have been around for a while, surprise! I actually ended up (heavily) rewriting my previous version of "Lingering Sentiments". This time, however, I don't consider it a continuation of Kuroy's "Inner Sanctum" (I hope the permission to write this story still stands. It's been about five years since I asked). It is now based off of that story as I feel that there is no direct continuation from it.**

 **So what's the big idea with writing this thing? Well, I don't know. I was just going about my business one day and thought of the name "Anaya" and how nice it sounded. Then this happened. I do have to say that I am very happy with how it turned out and that I loved pretty much all of it. Maybe this opinion of mine will change over time, but I am uploading this very satisfied.**

 **One last note: two scenes in this story, namely the dream sequences, are inspired by Mead's Zootopia comic "Judy is Dead". You can check it out on tumblr.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!**


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